Harry Potter and the Days of Empire
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: The Clone Wars are over. Jedi Knight Harry Potter, and his friends and allies, must assemble to try and restore the fallen Republic to its lost glory - failure is not an option, for if they fail, the Days of Empire will be upon them...
1. Chapter 1

One was a Jedi Knight, a hero, clothed in brown and sand coloured robes, wise, kind, just and true. He was handsome enough, with long black hair and a scar on his forehead from when a Dark Lord from another universe had tried – and failed – to kill him. He had fought injustice in one form or another for twenty years. He walked with a calm gait, and had a serene smile upon his face. His name was Harry Potter.

The other wore darker brown robes. His hair was long and red and streaked with aged blonde, his face was haggard and he looked like a walking corpse, gaunt and pale. He had been known by three names. Castor Troy. Castorabusallio Voraainsar. Darth Mortis. Today, he was Castor Voraainsar.

The two were in a lift heading to meet the Dark Lord Darth Sidious, who Castor had told Harry was the orchestrator of the plot to destroy the Jedi. Sidious was powerful. Only these two – Castor, who knew his ways, and Harry, the greatest survivor of the Jedi yet known – could hope to defeat him.

It had been several weeks since Castor had last been known as Darth Mortis, Death incarnate. Several weeks spent fixing Hogwarts, ordering his Clones to switch allegiance away from the Empire, and trying to rebuild trust.

And now, he and his friend were here to destroy the Sith and restore the Senate and the Republic.

Castor did not know if they would succeed.

* * *

Luna sensed him before she saw him, but she knew who he was. The signature in the Force was unmistakeable, a beacon of light – except it was now a tainted light, dirty and blood stained, dents in the glass and flickering slightly.

The metaphor died.

Mace Windu's purple sabre ignited, and then so too did Hermione's and Ron's. Luna ignited her own blade with reluctance – she knew quite well that it would be a somewhat one sided fight. He was more powerful than any of the, even in this state.

A rhythmic, heavy, mechanised breathing reached their ears, a mechanical lung that would never stop, would never slow, would never quiet down. Heavy footfalls clunked in their direction.

And then, out he stepped.

* * *

Emperor Palpatine was sat behind a desk. It was such an odd image for a Sith Lord and Emperor of the galaxy that Harry almost laughed.

"Darth Mortis," Palpaine said, conversationally. "How nice to see you. You seem somewhat different than the last time we met, but I suppose I should have expected it."

"Hello Chancellor Palpatine," Harry said, bowing with a faint smile. "Or is it Emperor now? I don't suppose it matters, one title is much the same as another."

"And Jedi Potter," Palpatine nodded at Harry. "I suppose you're right about the titles, but I think _Emperor _has more of a ring to it."

Castor ignited the red blade that had been Mortis's. Palpatine looked at it.

"Am I to take it that you're threatening me?" he asked, a dangerous undertone to his voice.

"Promise," Harry said, conversationally. "Not a threat. I'm truly sorry to cut your reign short," he added, igniting the green sabre that was his trademark and settling into Soresu stance, "but oh well. Better to have ruled and lost than to have never ruled at all."

Castor settled into his half Vaapad, half Ataru opening.

"Your evil will end today," he said, his voice deep and grim.

Palpatine laughed, an altogether unpleasant sound, and stood up, before igniting his own blade.  
"Your death promises to be most agonising," he said.

"Let's see what you're made of," Harry said, the smile dropping.

A moments pause.

Then the storm.

* * *

His face was like a demon's. There he stood, seven feet tall, monstrous to behold, powerful and inviolate. A red blade ignited in his hand. The hythmic mechanical lung pumping life through scorched veins.

"You should not have come here," he said shortly. "It will make your deaths most painful…"

The voice tailed off as Darth Vader registered Mace Windu. Windu was standing in pure Vaapad pose, poised to strike in a moment.

"Master Windu," Vader noted. "You survived."

"Surprised?" Windu asked.

"Somewhat," Vader admitted, "but it matters not. Your death will come, one way or another."

He said nothing more, but angled his blade to guard. Mace didn't move, and the others circled Vader cautiously.

"Ron," Hermione said, "take his left. Ginny with me. Luna, you and Mace take his front. We strike as one."

Vader watched them move, and smiled painfully within his mask. This would be all too easy.

* * *

He fought with Ataru, Harry noted in the first few seconds. His blade was designed to be one handed, he noted in the next few. After a couple of exchanges, he added to his mental tally the extreme speed at which Palpatine moved. After that, the strength of his strikes was noted. The cunning movements, that left one open more than once.

Castor was a blur, moving like lightning, hitting out, and Harry knew that if his friend had not been with him, Harry would have been dead. His role in this duel had bee merely to defend himself while Palpatine struck out at him.

_Why am I even here? _He asked himself. _I'm no match for Palpatine. No match for his power._

He dodged and stepped back, watching as Castor and Palpatine started moving as one, like a dance. People often commented that Jedi fought like they were choreographed. That they moved like dancers.

They moved like that because the Force tod them, in short, _don't move there, no not that way either, no, no, yes THERE!_

Sometimes, the Force's own guidance left Jedi spinning their sabre's without actually making contact for whole seconds.

This was lasting minutes, the two trying to find their opening.

They found it, and contacted.

They flew apart.

Harry didn't see that, because in the minute that they had danced, he had shouted out to Castor, an incoherent yell…

_Ginny. _

* * *

Darth Vader chided himself for underestimating these Jedi. They were more skilled than he had expected – but that just meant he had to do what, once, he had found simple.

To channel his iron will through the Force.

He snarled inwardly – it had become harder, since he had been encased in this armour, to do this, but here he had no choice.

He brought his will to bear, and then, with a push, he unleashed a shockwave of Force power. Mace Windu was thrown backwards into the traitor Clones – the traitor Clones who had, wisely, hung back from the battle. The brown haired girl and the red haired man were both knocked to the floor, and the blonde Jedi – who had been closest to Vader – bore the brunt of his fury, flying over the edge of the platform and out of sight.

Only the red haired girl stood her ground, her will brought to bear against his.

"Back down, girl," Vader commanded.

The girl smiled.

"Not a chance in hell," she replied, assuming a battle stance.

* * *

Harry was gone, that was the first thing he noticed when he and his former Master and mortal foe stopped moving. He looked at the space where his best friend should have been fighting for him, with him, like they always did, and felt shock.

Where could he be?

And then the Force, as it never had in all the years he had been lost, spoke to him clearly and certainly, and it told him that he had been abandoned for Harry's love. That Harry had made a choice – a choice that Castor could not blame, though it had doomed their attempt to destroy Sidious.

Castor snarled and looked Sidious right in the eye. The Dark Lord cut a small, hunched, but triumphant figure.

"There will be a reckoning, Palpatine," he promised with a snarl. "And I will destroy you."

And he left quickly, running to Harry's aid.


	2. Chapter 2

Darth Vader was fighting Jedi knights, and he was bored.

They had been no challenge to his power, but then, no one ever was a challenge to his power; even in his state. Except, maybe, this one. He threw a few blows in her direction, and she blocked them all. Lovely.

Challenges were so hard to find.

She showed no fear. In her face instead, to Vader's puzzlement, there was a smile of hope. Hope. Bah, hope was a lie. Hope had destroyed Vader's life.

He threw a few more blows, and she blocked them all with practiced – if not entirely finessed – ease. He sighed internally, and decided, as fun as this challenge was, he had to end it.

And then he sensed the reason for her hope, a half second before he spoke.

"Touch her," a male voice said, "and you will wish you were dead."

* * *

Castor Voraainsar's blade spun, and he watched Harry's emerald blade ignite. They were standing behind Vader; Ginny was the only one of their friends left standing.

"We should," he whispered in his friend's ear, "have finished Palpatine. I couldn't do it alone."

"You could, the way you were going," Harry said, the smile in his voice making Castor smile too. "But you chose to save your friends. How very Jedi of you."

Vader turned to face them.

"I can take him," Castor said. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"He's stronger than you think," Harry countered. "He's hiding it, or its hiding itself. He's more powerful than two Sidious's, even with half of him gone."

"Bull," Castor said. "We can take him."

"You have to get the injured out of here," Harry said.

"No problem," the former Sith said to his friend. He pressed a button on a panel on his wrist. "Tank, come in."

"Commander Tank here," the Clone's voice returned.

"We have injured, Extraction plan six six three," Castor ordered.

"Roger that," Tank said, and Clones started moving. Harry smiled, and ignited his blade. Vader circled them, as the two Jedi advanced, until the Jedi were grouped together, and the Sith stood alone.

_Always alone are the Sith_.

"I still think you should take the others and go," Harry said, throwing a glance at Castor.

_Take Harry and go!_

The memory flashed through Harry's mind but he ignored it. Castor frowned.

"I'm not leaving you," he said. "Not again."

"Harry," Ginny added, "He's stalemated. He can't attack when we outnumber him…"

"There you are wrong," Vader put in. "I'm merely waiting for you to finish deciding who dies first."

Castor glared at Vader, but Harry only blinked.

He understood.

The Clones had gotten the wounded Jedi in by now. There was no sign of Luna and Castor inwardly sighed. Vader regarded the LAAT suddenly with what - if he could have any kind of expression - was a cold movement of his head. The wounded Jedi were quickly moved, but Harry and Castor stayed behind.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Castor asked.

"That he'll wreck the ship if we both go, yes," Harry nodded. "You have to leave."

"No, you do," Castor said at once. "I have a chance, you don't."

"You've been dead once," Harry said. "Not having it again. Not for real."

"You have a family," Castor pointed out. Harry looked back at Ginny, who was looking at him expectedly. Then to Hermione, who was busy tending to Luna – then to Ron, who looked at him, then glanced at Ginny, then back to Harry.

Ron nodded grimly.

Harry turned to Castor.

"Castor, I see there's no way to change your mind on this, so forgive me my friend," he said grimly. "Die well." Castor nodded.

"Been nice Harry," he said. He turned to face Vader…

And Harry knocked him out. He grabbed him before he fell and Force-threw him across to the ship, where some Clones caught him.

"Harry!" Ginny screamed.

Harry smiled at her. The clones got ready to jump out and help him, but Harry held up a hand.

"Tank!" he yelled, as he could recall his friend doing so long ago. "Mission!"

A Clone Commander – Tank, presumably – nodded. Harry smiled, and turned to Vader.

"I'm ready for you now."

He raised his lightsabre in the Soresu mode, and Vader mirrored the motion.

"You sacrifice yourself for your friends," Vader noted. "Brave. There was a time when I would have done the same."

Harry said nothing, but watched the gunship rise. Ginny was watching him, waiting. He looked back at Vader. He didn't want to see Ginny's heartbreak when he fell.

Vader struck first, but Harry counbtered, spun, and slashed Vader's sleeve. Vader responded with a series of strikes, and the two exchanged these for a moment, before Harry stepped back, lashed out, and parried the riposte, before twirling and trying for Vader's head. Vader caught him, then blasted him backwards.

* * *

"Harry!" Ginny yelled. Castor awoke, to see Tank's helmet above him.

"General," the Clone acknowledged. "You might wanna lie back."

"Harry!" Castor yelled, but then the ship jolted, and they were in space.

"No…" Castor whispered. "Not now, not like this…"

* * *

Harry parried blow after blow, but they were getting heavier and heavier. Chances were he'd be knocked down any moment, and slain.

"Come on!" he yelled. "Is that all you can do?"

He sensed Ginny leave the atmosphere, and a part of him cheered in triumph, but the rest was a bit busy trying not to be impaled. In desperation, he tried an Ataro mode of assault, leaping over Vader and swinging in many varied forms, but Vader beat back every one.

Then he clashed with Harry.

"You are defeated," he observed dispassionately.

"Not… yet," Harry snarled, and he used all his Force power to try and push Vader back. A great wind blew up, and suddenly the two men were obscured in a dust cloud that, even when Harry let go, refused to settle.

When it did slightly, a red lightsabre flew at him, and suddenly, he was impaled.

Harry staggered back, and looked down at the sabre in his chest.

"No," he murmured. How had it come to this?

He looked up, and Vader was in front of him. The Dark Lord summoned the blade back.

"You fought bravely," the Sith noted. "But it was in vain. Goodbye, Harry Potter."

Harry blinked, and tried to speak, but his strength failed him.

He collapsed.

He was dead.


End file.
